


The Addiction Cycle

by wifidelis



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Tragedy, Backstory, Child Abuse, Military Backstory, Original Character(s), Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicide Attempt, Surgery, Survivor Guilt, Underage Drinking, Unrequited Love, Veteran Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Vietnam War, basically my backstory for husk, please enjoy, there's a lot to process here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28537983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wifidelis/pseuds/wifidelis
Summary: Husk had a miserable life from beginning to end.At least alcohol was always there.It's in the afterlife, too.Some cycles just weren't meant to be broken.
Relationships: Alastor & Husk (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	The Addiction Cycle

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Human!Husk name = Edward/Eddie  
> 2\. Nicky is the OC - just a childhood buddy to direct the misery.  
> 3\. Plus some more nameless faces to haunt our drunk gambler
> 
> first fic in a bit! if you've read something by me before, you know what's coming. a whole lotta SAD.
> 
> please enjoy as we walk through husk's addict cycle!! :>

_When did you first begin drinking, I wonder?_

_I can’t remember a time when I didn’t._

* * *

**8 - Experimentation**

“You’re a worthless piece of shit. **I hope to fucking God he never ends up like you**.”

A sharp smack and the sound of a body falling heavy onto hardwood as lumbering, drunken footsteps staggered across the living room floor. He was crouched hiding in the closet. It was a safe place. They couldn’t see him, and he couldn’t see them. He didn’t want to come out. If he came out, he’d see his momma knocked out cold on the floor and his papa peeling out of the driveway to hit a bar and find another woman. He curled into himself in the farthest corner with the dust bunnies and old shoes that were never worn anymore and the coats that had fallen off their hooks to never be recovered and all the other forgotten unwanted things. He felt at home here, with all the forgotten things. It was a world of quiet isolation away from everything that cried and screamed and hit each other outside the closet door.

Tears dripped onto the unpolished hardwood beneath where he crouched. He didn’t understand. Everyone said their parents were supposed to love each other. Mommies and daddies were supposed to be happy and raise their kids healthy. Kids were supposed to smile and get yummy meals that he got at Nicky’s house. Nicky never had to hide in a closet.

He was trembling. The sound of the crack wouldn’t leave his brain. He wanted it out so badly. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why everything was scary. Nicky always told him to face his fears, even when he was the one protecting Nicky on the playground or picking him first for football. Did Nicky know how scary this was? Could he tell Nicky?

There was a rustle of fabric and a low moan outside the closet. His heart jumped into his throat, peeking out behind his teeth. Was that mommy picking herself up off the floor? Was that her staggering to daddy’s liquor cabinet, her falling onto the couch? He hoped she was okay. Maybe he should check on her.

He mustered his courage and pushed open the closet door, peeking out into the dim world. It shut gently behind him as socked feet tiptoed across the foyer to the living room. He almost called out to her when his heart plummeted from his throat into the absolute pits of his stomach. She was sprawled out on the couch with a bottle of vodka in her hand. She was talking to herself, dazed.

“Momma?” He tried again.

Her head lolled towards him, trying and failing to raise herself off the couch. She settled for gesturing to him with a lazy flop of the wrist. He ran to her, climbing onto the couch as he buried himself in her mane of unkempt black hair. It was greasy, but he didn’t care. The buttons on her blouse were torn off, exposing purple and green mottled skin. He saw bruises on her lips. Her lipstick was smeared across her chin.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

She laughed. The sound was echoing somewhere deep from her belly, low and loud and hollow. “I am now, baby. It’ll all be gone by morning.”

She took another drink from the bottle. He let her draw him closer against her chest. He didn’t have a choice.

“Y’know,” she hiccuped. “ **I’ll be happy with whatever you end up fucking doing. Long as you’re not like him**.”

She drank again. He was crying, and she was oblivious to it.

“... Does the bottle help, Momma?”

“It **solves all your problems** , baby,” she mumbled, eyelids drooping under the weight of the booze. “All of ‘em…”

Her hand flopped down and the bottle fell with it. He pried it from her fingers and cried when the fire touched his throat, erupting in an inferno.

* * *

**14 - Regular Use**

“Holy Hell, Eddie, how’d you get ahold of all of this?” Nicky whistled.

He pulled out two more bottles of whiskey, adding them to the growing pile on the floor of Nicky’s room. He tossed his backpack aside, lining the five bottles up in a line across the rug. Nicky’s brown eyes were wide behind the square frames of his glasses, mouth dropped open in astonishment. He swallowed down the little bubble of pride that rose with it as Nicky grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels, rubbing his thumb over the label like he didn’t believe it was real.

“ **You’re amazing** , you know that?” Nicky smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting crooked.

He felt his chest puff out as Nicky raised his gaze to meet his, eyes twinkling. His head felt like cotton whenever Nicky told him that. Every inch of him lit up warm and happy and cloudy. Everyone else could say the same things to him but no one made him feel like Nicky did. Nicky knew the right words and did the right things. Even when he shied away from other people, even when he still hid behind him, he was always happy. Because Nicky did that with him. He always did it with him.

“So… how does this work?” Nicky tilted his head, a strand of blonde hair falling with it into his eyes.

He wanted to swipe it away and see how Nicky would react. He’d probably get all freaked out and not know what to say. Nicky always reacted to surprises like that.

“Eddie?”

He snapped back to reality. “You’ve seriously never done this before?”

“My parents don’t keep liquor in the house,” Nicky frowned. “ **The only people I know who keep it are your folks**.”

A twang of annoyance struck him. Only his, huh?

He snatched the bottle of Jack Daniels from Nicky and popped it open. He raised an eyebrow, staring Nicky dead in the eye as he raised the bottle to his mouth, relishing as the fire touched his tongue and slithered down his throat. After a long swig and feeling vaguely lighter than air, Nicky scoffed and grabbed it back. He raised it to his lips and he found himself focused on those. He wouldn’t mind those lips. On his.

Until the first strain of fire touched Nicky’s tongue and he practically choked, coughing loud and hard. He hissed at him to shut up, slapping a palm over Nicky’s mouth and closing the distance between them as he sputtered. Nicky gagged, tears in the corners of his eyes as he stared at him in admiration. Pure reverence. His stomach flipped. Nicky was the only one who ever looked at him like that. Nicky was the only one who could. Nicky was the only one who cared.

He put the lip of the bottle against Nicky’s mouth. “Slower. Savor it.”

Nicky’s nose wrinkled up when it hit his tongue again, but this time he was slower. More careful. He managed one swallow before shoving the bottle away, scowling and shaking his head as if to rid himself of the flavor. He smirked. Nicky stuck his tongue out in response.

“That tastes disgusting.”

“It gets better the more you drink.”

Nicky raised a quizzical eyebrow. “You promise?”

**“When have I ever lied to you, Nick?”**

Nicky scrunched up his face and took a longer sip. And another. Another. Another. More and more and more until his cheeks were flushed pink and his eyes were starting to droop. His smile was getting droopy. Sleepy.

“Wooow. You were right, Ed-eddie.”

He took the bottle and chugged down three gulps until everything was fuzzy at the edges. Nicky fumbled for the bottle again, and he raised it up out of his reach. Nicky scowled and lunged for it, practically tackling him in the process and knocking him onto his back. Nicky’s knees straddled his hips as he pried the bottle out of his fingers, lifting it to his mouth, throwing his head back as he chugged, a loose drip of amber sliding down his chin.

Sliding right down onto his burning face.

Nicky threw the empty bottle to the side, letting it clattered at the foot of his bed. He looked down at him with a puzzled expression. He pursed his lips.

“Whas’ wrong?”

“N-nothin’,” he stammered. “‘M fine.”

“N’kay,” Nicky yawned.

He looked up at his bed and then down at him again before flopping down on his chest, giggling as he let out a sharp breath of air. Nicky tucked his head underneath his chin and threw an arm around his neck, eyes falling shut. In minutes, his chest began to rise and fall steadily, soft sounds escaping parted lips.

He felt like he was on fire, his heart combusting within his ribs. He couldn’t resist. With a trembling finger, he tilted Nicky’s chin up and placed a soft peck against his lips. Nicky’s eyes fluttered back open as arms locked around his neck and Nicky came back for more and all he wanted was for Nicky to give him more. Everything snapped into place from rolling Nicky onto his back to cradling his face as gently as possible, everything so soft so kind so addictive. He could taste the alcohol on Nicky’s lips, hidden in the heat of his breath. He could feel the tears falling down his face, trying to swipe them away before Nicky could register them hitting. Nicky didn’t seem to notice. Nicky never seemed to notice and he didn’t care that he didn’t.

Here with Nicky he was safe. He was safe, he was warm, he was loved. That was all he ever wanted, something he never ever could have, always out of reach and unattainable, something fought for but never won. But Nicky gave it to him with every kind embrace, every smile, every little glance that shot fire through him. Hands went to rip open Nicky’s shirt when a sharp gasp stopped him.

“H-how-” Nicky was breathless, eyes wide and scared. “Do you know how this… this works?”

He could only remember his mother’s ripped open blouse.

“I- do you want me to… stop?”

Nicky seemed scared. That was enough for him to sit back on his knees and help Nicky up. The smaller boy was touching his lips, glancing between fingers and him. The look in Nicky’s eyes sent waves of static through him, noise screaming in his ears of fucking up again, fucking up getting love, fucking up getting attention fucking up fucking up fucking up fuckin uP-

Until Nicky leaned forward and rested his forehead in the crook of his shoulder, arms around his waist lazily. His insides shuddered and throbbed.

This was all he wanted. This was all he fucking wanted.

Nicky was stiff. Nicky was still nervous and he could tell as he pulled away, stumbling to his feet and climbing on his bed. He could only watch as Nicky passed out, glasses still on his face shoved up and sideways. His heart shrunk. Why? Why did he just go? Why did everyone always go when he wanted them? When he needed them?

He curled up on the floor where he set up his pillow and blanket for the night. Tears still stung in his eyes. Everything in him ached. He wanted to curl up with Nicky. With anyone. He wanted that same snap. That same togetherness, that same clockwork that made his heart throb and swell. He wanted someone. Anyone. Just someone who would want him. Someone that wanted him there and saw the bruises hidden underneath his shirts and jeans and the scars on his arms from cigarette burns and wiped the blood from busted lips away and who held a tissue to his nose when the bleeding wouldn’t stop. Just someone who saw him. Not around him. Not through him.

He tried to fall asleep, but he couldn’t.

He only could when he took Nicky’s glasses off his face and set them on his nightstand. When he did, Nicky rolled away from him.

He couldn’t stop crying.

He let the next bottle solve his problems.

The one after that erased them.

* * *

_Why?_

_Why not?_

* * *

**20 - Risky Use**

They were ambushed during a patrol.

He reacted on gut instinct. Something ripped free of his psyche, something dark and terrible and all too familiar. Almost mechanic. Diving behind the cover of the trees, back pressed up against the rough bark as cold sweat ran down his neck and soaking his uniform, gun hugged up against his chest. He didn’t know where anyone else was as the jungle wove into a labyrinth, reacting to each shot by returning one in time as animals screamed above them and shook the branches of the trees, spilling leaves from the sky like tears. Returning fire on command, a sense of pride soaking his bones down to the marrow when he heard a guttural gasp as a throat grasped uselessly at air as a bullet found a home lodged in the bone of the spine, **a hard smack of a body against hardwood falling with a sharp smack** as bodies tumbled to the floor in unmarked graves, teeth gritted firing firing firing until the gunshots were one sided and there was quiet.

A world of quiet isolation, lost in the jungles of a communist regime where no one would ever find him.

His gun was burning between his fingers, searing the kills into memory. How many had it been? Was it even worth it to keep track anymore? Was it bad that he didn’t care?

“H-holy shit, E-eddie-”

Nicky was trembling, eyes dark underneath his helmet. He ran to him between the trees without a moment of hesitation when one more shot rang out through the jungle, birds squawking and fleeing into the sky as the breath left his lungs and his fell face first into the leaves and dirt and bugs and rotten earth where he rightfully belonged as Nicky screamed and fired blindly until another blood filled throat cried out into an unforgiving night, plants claiming the body in the dirt as it fell. Fear shot through him as the dawning realization that shot shot he was shot licked at the wound, a precariously placed hole directly above his heart as the irony hit him that he was almost shot in the heart he could’ve died for the person he loved the most and it would’ve broken his heart, exploded the red organ into a pile of mush inside his chest that they’d have to scoop out like ice cream when they embalmed his corpse or maybe just maybe they’d burn him because there wasn’t anything worthy enough to send home, or maybe because there wasn’t anyone to send him home to because the one person who mattered was flipping him onto his back in dull horror as blood blossomed across the front of his jacket where a single abyssal hole drilled itself into his chest.

Nicky was sobbing. That wasn’t acceptable.

“Eddie I’m sorry I’m so sorry-”

“G-get the bottle of whiskey out of the bag,” he rasped through gritted teeth. “And the longest pair of pliers I have. Gauze.”

“I-i-i-”

**“Nicky, get the shit out of the bag or I’m going to fucking die and it’ll be on your hands.”**

Nicky froze and he immediately felt guilt choke him, coiling around his windpipe with a hiss and the sink of venomous fangs into his flesh as nausea overcame him and he watched something break behind Nicky’s eyes, something dark clouded his vision and glazed over his pupils and the anxiety the fear the guilt went up in flames and he couldn’t even apologize, couldn’t take the time to explain because he was right, he was going to bleed out and die if Nicky didn’t get his shit together and move-

“Nicky,” desperation pooling in his voice. “I am going to **fucking die or go into shock and die if you don’t** -”

The items were shoved into his hands without a word but he couldn’t focus on Nicky anymore because he could feel shock’s cold hands stroking his face as everything went jittery and blurry and he couldn’t help it he couldn’t help taking pride in the fact that _he fucking deserved this_ and out of the corner of his eye he saw Nicky’s terror like a black cloud dropping chains around their necks where dogtags sat like headstones and he couldn’t help but feel happy because _finally finally nicky was looking at him-_

He snapped the neck off the plastic bottle and flipped the neck, chugging the fire as everything bent and distorted and the pain and fear became sheer pleasure as fingers took the tweezers, bit down on his lip and plunged them into the drilled out portion of his skin, gasping and writhing as flesh squeezed and ripped and pulled apart as teeth nipped around the metallic edge of the bullet and tears formed in the corners of his eyes, heels digging into the dirt as he tried to brace himself to pull pull pull pull it out when he found he couldn’t get the courage underneath layers of adrenaline until he managed to shoot his eyes over to Nicky and the hopelessness the emptiness the hollowness of staring into a corpse

he ripped the bullet out and threw it away as blood immediate erupted from the wound and he grabbed gauze from nicky’s lap and pushed as hard as he could around the ragged edges of the wound the sound of his breathing as tears hit his face and he looked up and Nicky was staring into a black void as a smile stretched across his face and he was laughing, a horrible sound that bent and twisted and contorted around the high-pitched screams of horror and dripped blood from teeth and lips as his arms squeezed around himself, rocking back and forth as the world cracked and crumbled around them and he couldn’t do anything but reach out with the hand that wasn’t holding in the essence of his pitiful miserable life and all Nicky did was stare at it and stare at it and stare at it until the ghostly sounds of a dead man laughing finally evaporated and the smile dripped off his face with his tears like tar and

“I wanna go home, I just wanna go home, I wanna go home, home, home, home home home home home home home, Eddie wanna go home, wanna go home with Eddie-”

“I promise,” he rasped. “I promise we’ll go home, Nicky, we’re gonna go home soon.”

Nicky slowly lowered himself and placed his head on his chest underneath his chin, giggling as eyes fell on the cauterized hole in his chest.

“Home. Wanna go home, Eddie. **Take me home**.”

Something in him latched onto that idea. Something bit into his flesh and held down like a leech, guzzling the euphoria that came with the idea of being his savior, his protector, his that would take him home and maybe just maybe he could stay home, he could stay home with Nicky forever it could be just them at home because home was safe Nicky was safe and Nicky was the only one that mattered, the leech smiled with its mouthful of fangs, if Nicky was happy if he could make Nicky happy then that was worth it because he could only ruined everything with everyone else but Nicky Nicky Nicky Nicholas fucking Love was the only goddamn constant the only goddamn anchor and Nicky? Nicky, he’d do anything to protect Nicky, anything if Nicky was safe and happy and healthy because Nicky

was

home

nicky

was

h o m e

* * *

_That’s a pitiful reason._

_I had a pitiful life._

* * *

**“They’re all dead, Eddie.”**

Nicky sat in a ring of corpses, sagging and dropping to his knees as fingers trembled around a bloody AK-47, the plastic and metal of the gun rattled with Nicky’s teeth on a blood smeared face. His eyes stared at it with a sick fascination as brown eyes raised to stare at him as he hunched over the corpse of another fallen man plugged full of bullets and bled out into the jungle floor for the bugs to crawl into and make a new home. Nicky’s head lolled sideways as he looked from him to the sun, its rays just beginning to shine down in the twilight of the jungle.

“But we’re not,” he rasped. The edge of fear stabbed into his throat. “We’re still here.”

Nicky laughed, throwing his head back and extending his arms with the gun as if crucified by the horror flooding his voice. “We’re still here! We’re still here!”

His shoulders sagged as he lurched forward, eyes narrowed with crazed insanity. “You said we were going home.”

“I’m trying-”

“YOU SAID WE WERE GOING HOME AND NOW THEY’RE ALL DEAD BECAUSE OF **YOU**!”

He stopped cold. “I-”

“Franklin put **YOU** in charge,” Nicky snarled. “You couldn’t save **him** , you couldn’t save **Queens** , you couldn’t save **Underwood** , you couldn’t save **Donowitz** , you couldn’t save **Tucker** , you couldn’t save **ME**.”

No. No. No no no no no no no no no.

“You. Failed!”

Nicky put the barrel of the gun in his mouth and he **shot** forward, tackling Nicky to the forest floor as the gun spilled from his fingers between them, pinning his arms above his head. Nicky screamed at him and kicked at him until he fell limp and he could only stare up at him without a tear to spill, eyes dead and hollow as the bark of the trees. He kicked the gun out to the side and hauled Nicky up, pulling him into his arms as Nicky’s head sagged into his shoulder. He was cold.

He pulled back and Nicky looked up at him with hollow eyes and a dead smile.

“Am I going to Heaven, Eddie?”

“Not yet you’re not-”

“You don’t even believe in Heaven,” Nicky spat.

Nicky’s hands and arms wrapped around his shoulders as he buried his face in his neck. He held him tightly, desperately trying to keep Nicky here, keep Nicky rooted because as long as Nicky existed there was a root there was safety there was home if he could keep Nicky here he’d prove him everyone wrong he didn’t fail there wasn’t blood on his hands except there was and it was still fresh and dripping onto the ground, smearing across Nicky’s back. He could take Nicky home and he could prove him wrong, he could prove he wasn’t worthless he could prove it wasn’t his fault he could prove it he could prove it prove it PROVE IT.

“Nicky, I promise I’ll get us home some _fucking_ way.”

“The jungle eats you up and spits you out for the trees and we join their shitty fucking communist dirt.”

“Nicky-”

“I’m not going home, Eddie. **I don’t wanna go home, Eddie**.”

“Nicky, PLEASE-”

**“You did lie to me, Eddie.**   
**Nigh’ night, Eddie.”**

Nicky dropped his hands from his back and grabbed the gun before he could even register what was happening, before he could beg or plead or stop him the barrel was shoved into Nicky’s mouth and Nicky smiled and laughed and he almost screamed almost got it out almost ripped the gun away when Nicky pulled the trigger and the deep brown eyes, beautiful brown eyes were shot out as the bullet ripped through his skull and his brain matter and blood and skull fragments splattered across his face and the jungle canopy painting everything with Love painting everything a sickly color of grey and pink and red and red and red and red and red

he failed he failed he fucking failed he was crying his was screamed as he clutched the headless corpse to his chest and screamed as the jungle screamed with him and everything was breaking everything crumbled there wasn’t anything to return to there wasn’t safety there wasn’t home there wasn’t quiet because everything was up in smoke and ashes and fire he wanted FIRE he wanted to DROWN in FIRE because he failed he failed he failed the one thing he made a promise about he shattered splintered cracked smashed open the promise like nicky’s skull when the bullet ripped through and there wasn’t anything left he failed he failed he killed them all he failed them all he was the m e d i c and he couldn’t even do his own fucking job he saved his own life but not theirs not theirs not theirs not even nicky’s nicky nicky nicky nicky i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’M SORRY I FAILED I FAILED I FAILED worthless waste of space join the dirt join the shitty fucking communist dirt and rot like the savage the beast the animal you are take that gamble drown in fire rot rot rot until the bugs are crawling through your corpse and you can stay here forever forever with them with nicky nicky was here now this meant this was home home without safety you didn’t you never deSERVED SAFETY HAPPINESS SECURITY LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE join nicky join the ghosts and their choir haunt someone else one day leering ghosts over him with weeping mouths and dripping eyes clustered around him and a headless corpse no home no safety no worth nothing nothing nothing absolute nothing as loneliness as fear as it choked him as chains shackled him and he took the gun clamped between rigor mortis fingers and shoved it down his throat when hands grabbed him and hauled him away away away look up green men men in green

was that

was that the fucking chopper

going back

going back not home

going back kicking screaming sobbing raw faced without nicky without a home without Love

* * *

JOSEPH H. FRANKLIN  
DAVID C. TUCKER  
ABRAHAM D. QUEENS  
THEODORE G. DONOWITZ  
RONALD F. UNDERWOOD

**N I C H O L A S**   
**K E N N E T H**   
**L O V E**

* * *

_You lied to me about being a murderer._

_No, I didn’t._

* * *

**21 - D E P E N D E N C E**

fire

drown

in

fire

just fucking drown you don’t deserve to live you stole life when you saved your own and you blamed nicky you blamed him for that didn’t you you stole everything from them you kept a life you never deserved you stole lives that needed to live when you couldn’t died ages ago and no one would’ve batted an eye

nicky wouldn’t even care

nicky never cared

no one ever cared

drown in fire

waste of space waste of air waste of breath waste of humanity waste of life waste of food waste of booze waste of soul wasteful wasteful spoiling everything rotting everything ever touched join the dirt where you belong

drown in fire

_i hope to fucking god he never ends up like you_

but here he was

drowning in fire

he was going to go home

to nicky

at long last

he was going home

drown in fire

wasteful

don’t leave a single drop

throw it up later

with nails in your skull

the bottle helped, momma

it solved all my problems

* * *

**A L C O H O L I C**

* * *

**∞ - A D D I C T I O N**

He chased Love even now.

He chased Love in the form of a red painted deer demon with a merciless smile and a knack for torment and bloodshed. A deer demon who gutted his secrets from him without restraint. A demon named Alastor, who buried emotions under cruelty and bloodshed.

Sprawled out across his lap like a common housecat, burning up on the inside with every stroke of clawed hands after stumbling home drunk from a gutter, only to find the deer demon waiting for him on his couch. The deer demon who looked at him in disgust without a shred of pity as his drunk ass demanded Love and attention and pets from someone incapable of feeling it.

“When did you first begin drinking, I wonder?” Alastor purred, tipping Husk’s chin in his direction.

Husk leaned into the touch until Alastor stole it away and he was left wanting more. He always wanted more.

Alastor raised an eyebrow expectantly. He demanded an answer. He always got his answer.

“I can’t remember a time when I didn’t,” Husk rasped.

Alastor’s smile darkened as fingers returned behind Husk’s ears, drawing out the rare purr reserved for him and him alone. Husk nudged Alastor’s hand to the middle of his head, growing louder when sharp nails scratched across his scalp.

“Why?” Alastor’s fingers paused again, lifting off Husk’s head into the air.

His eyes were narrowed. Husk tried to bring his hand down again but Alastor lifted it higher out of reach. Husk growled and jumped out of his skin when Alastor growled back, the sound tripled and stacked upon itself to sound like perverted roars of thunder.

“Why?” Alastor asked again, a note of command to his tone. Husk bristled.

“Why not?”

“That’s a pitiful reason,” Alastor chuckled, folding his hands out of Husk’s reach behind his head, tilting it expectantly.

Husk whined, but he wouldn’t budge.

“I had a pitiful life,” Husk snapped. “You know why.”

“Oh, yes. It’s why I like you so much,” Alastor purred, returning a hand behind Husk’s ear. “My little murderous friend.”

Husk stiffened visibly and Alastor stopped scratching. His smile turned venomous and Husk froze.

“You lied to me about being a murderer,” Alastor’s voice lilted into darkness.

Husk could see the static crackling behind his gaze. Was Alastor mad? He didn’t want Alastor to be mad. Especially at him. Please don’t be mad at him, please just Love him-

“No, I didn’t,” Husk’s voice hitched. “I didn’t lie.”

Alastor tilted Husk’s chin up towards him with his microphone. “Then who did you kill?”

“Alastor, I can’t-”

“Hm,” Alastor would’ve frowned if he was capable of it. “Yes, you can. It’s me, Husker. There is nothing you can hide from me that I won’t find out for myself.”

“Why do you want to know so fucking bad?” Husk spat. “So you can get your rocks off over my misery again?”

Alastor laughed. “Oh my dear, dear friend. Of course it is. You’re my favorite for this very reason, you know. You’re oh so entertaining to me.”

Just a toy. Just a thing of Alastor’s amusement. Undeserving of true affection, undeserving of Love. A waste of space, a waste of air even in a realm of sinners and hedonism. Alastor jabbed his microphone under Husk’s chin, chuckling when Husk hissed at him.

“I’ll tell you some of mine,” he teased. “Georgia Williams, Donald Hill-”

“My best friend,” Husk snapped. “I killed my best friend. Are you fucking happy now?”

Alastor’s eyes twinkled. “You adored him, didn’t you? Why did you kill him?”

Husk flinched as one of Alastor’s thumbs swiped across a furry cheek. Tears were brimming in his eyes. Alastor’s gaze darkened.

“I… broke a promise-”

“Shh, there, there, Husker,” Alastor cut him off as tears fell freely. “No more need to discuss it.”

Husk was crying as Alastor tucked him safely against his chest as the scent of blood and amber and sunshine flooded his senses. Alastor got what he wanted. Information. Pain. His fingers scratched lightly up and down Husk’s back between his wings, chuckling when they closed around their two interlocked forms. Husk drowned in the warmth that radiated from Alastor’s body, curling up on his lap as Alastor rested his chin on his head. Husk always wanted more from Alastor. More he wasn’t going to get because he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve Love but he chased it in all the wrong directions, right into the clutches of a sadistic serial killer who reveled in power and blood and fear.

“Do you even care about me?” Husk wondered aloud.

Regret bit him the moment the words left his lips.

Alastor didn’t respond. Not so much as a peep.

Husk buried himself and hoped for Love in someone incapable of feeling it. He knew Alastor enough to know silence spoke volumes.

What this silence said he couldn’t say.

But he begged that it was Love.

For someone to Love him as unworthy and digsusting as he fucking was.

He’d never get an answer.

And he’d always be homeless.


End file.
